Some Like It Cold
by the-lovely-anomaly
Summary: "A friend is someone who can see the truth and pain in you even when you are fooling everyone else." My first oneshot. Read with an open mind.


**My first oneshot. It's about the friendship between London and Maddie (the twins only get a mention, sorry); I decided to put the spotlight on two characters I haven't written about yet since I like my stories to be vastly different from each other. **

**This story is not so much about the characters themselves as it is about the relationship between them. Keep that in mind. Also London's been smartened up a bit; I couldn't write about her with the intellect she has on the show. **

**Speaking of which, this takes place **_**before **_**SLOD.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **

* * *

It was mid-December and Boston's first snow was in the midst of falling. London gazed at it outside the window of her suite, transfixed, as it descended from the sky and cascaded to the ground._ I wonder where it comes from_, she thought. She knew there was some scientific explanation for it, but she'd never bothered to do research on the matter; science was not exactly her forte.

Nor was anything academic, for that matter.

She sighed and picked up her Blackberry from the countertop next to her couch, sifting through its contents to see if she'd received any calls or text messages. Nothing. And it had been hours already since she'd texted Chelsea, Portia, and Tiffany. Where could they be?

She considered going down to the lobby and looking for someone to talk to. Even Mr. Moseby would have sufficed at this point. But she couldn't will herself to do it. It didn't matter anyway; with the snow that was blocking all the roads, the lobby was most likely empty. And Mr. Moseby was pretty much a no-go; he hadn't exactly been in the best of moods lately and she didn't want to make it worse.

She sighed again. _I'm so bored! _

She thought about calling her jet pilot and bribing him into picking her up, but she knew that that was pointless. Moseby wouldn't allow it, and her father would have her tracked down and brought back to the Tipton by the end of the day. She was, what she referred to as, GUFN—grounded until further notice—and was not permitted to leave the hotel except for emergencies until her father said she could. Mr. Moseby was in charge of keeping an eye on her. His job, not to mention his well-being, depended on it.

So she was stuck. Cooped up. Trapped.

She was a prisoner in her own home.

_I hate my life, _she thought disdainfully. _Daddy ruins everything. _

_I guess I shouldn't be surprised. What did I expect? Of _course_ he'd believe her over me. No one fucks with his wives except him. _

_Literally. _

_But I'm not sorry. I don't care if he did make me apologize. I'm not sorry at all._

London pulled up the sleeve of her black, long-sleeved Balenciaga and glanced down at the bruise. It encompassed the entire circumference of her forearm. A sickly-looking, greenish-brown discoloration against her slightly tanned skin from where her stepmom—mommy number ten…or maybe it was eleven by now—had grabbed her by the arm.

The image of it replayed in her head, like a ghost jumping out at her from a dark, shadowy closet…

"I just want you to know," the woman had whispered furiously, flecks of spittle spewing from her lips, "I don't like kids. I never did, and I never will. The only reason I'm marrying your father is…well, I think you know. But remember this, if you get in my way…"—she squeezed her arm tighter, causing her to let out an involuntary scream—"Don't scream, you pathetic little cunt! If your father sees us, I'm going to tell him you were being a little brat to me. And he'll believe me. He believes everything I say."

London had clenched her teeth and nodded, overcome by a sudden streak of fear. There was something about that woman—despite how classy she was—that sent chills up and down her spine.

"If you get in my way, I'll make your life hell. Do you understand?" Her eyes were sharp. Her breath, hot.

London remembered her breath most of all—the stench of regurgitated wine; the hot air that drifted towards her face.

She shook her head, willing the memory away. She still couldn't believe she'd never told anybody. But then again, who could she tell? Her father wouldn't believe her, and Mr. Moseby was powerless to do anything. She could show people the bruise, but she was too embarrassed. Too ashamed.

She was trapped, in more ways that one.

Suddenly, the door to her suite opened and Maddie walked in, dressed in a heavy buttoned-up overcoat, with a scarf around her neck, gloves on her hands, a beanie on her head, and boots that went all the way up to her shins. There were droplets of water on her shoulders from where flecks of snow had melted. Her face was rosy from cold, her eyes glossy. "Hey London," she said cheerfully, "it's beautiful outside. The twins and I are going out to play in the snow. Wanna come?"

London looked at her in confusion. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "It's Saturday." Maddie didn't work on Saturdays.

Maddie shrugged as though it were no big deal. "I don't want to be home right now," she said. "My parents are having issues. I needed to get away from them."

"What kind of issues?" London was genuinely curious. She didn't particularly care for Maddie's parents, but her boredom called for conversation.

"Don't worry about it," Maddie said indifferently. "Mom and Dad are just having a little tiff, that's all."

There was a pause. London was tempted to ask what the tiff was about but decided she'd better not. She didn't feel like upsetting Maddie. And besides, it was none of her business anyway.

"So…you coming or what?" Maddie asked, changing the subject.

"Can't," London replied. "I'm grounded."

Maddie didn't ask why; she figured she didn't need to know. "Just outside the hotel," she promised. "I'm sure Moseby wouldn't mind."

London snorted. _Sure he wouldn't. If I so much as set one toe out of this building he'd have a fit. _

"Come on, London, it's the first snow of the year. You shouldn't miss it."

London let out a slow breath. She wasn't a fan of snow, or of winter in general, but being out there in the coldness seemed a heck of a lot better than being cooped up in her suite all day. Still, her father had been adamant (as Mr. Moseby had put it) about her staying inside. And she didn't want to disappoint him.

She shook her head. "No, you go on and have fun."

Maddie looked sad. "Well, okay then."

She turned to leave, stretching out her hand for the door knob.

London shifted her focus back towards her Blackberry, checking a second time to see if anything had been sent to her. Just like last time, nothing. She was tempted to call Maddie back—tempted to tell her she'd changed her mind and wanted to go outside after all—but she held back. Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes.

"How about some hot chocolate?"

Maddie's voice startled London. When she looked up, she saw her friend removing her gloves and beginning to unbutton her overcoat. "What are you doing?" she questioned.

"Taking all this excess crap off," Maddie answered.

"Why? I thought you were going outside with the twins."

"I was, but…"—Maddie smiled—"I think you need my company more than they do right now. I'm not going to leave you up here all by yourself. You might be grounded, but that's just cruel and unusual punishment."

"Are you sure?" London wondered. "I mean, it's like you said—it's the first snow of the year. Are you sure you want to enjoy it from in here?"

"No," Maddie admitted, "but I'd rather be stuck in a hotel suite with my best friend than having fun in the snow without her."

London was touched. "Thanks, Maddie."

Maddie tossed her overcoat, scarf, and gloves on the arm of the couch, and then bent down to take off her boots. "Don't mention it. So what say you and I order some room service? That is, unless you're not allowed to do that either?"

"Daddy never said anything about that."

"Good. Let's get some hot chocolate." Maddie reached for the cordless phone that was installed into the suite (the one London hardly used).

"Can I have mine with ice in it?"

"London," Maddie chuckled, "it's not supposed to have ice in it. It's supposed to be hot. Hence the name, _hot _chocolate."

"I don't like it hot," London told her.

"But London, that kind of defeats the purpose of it."

London shrugged. She couldn't explain why, but she was not in the mood for a hot drink. There was something about heat that disturbed her. It was as though any measure of warmth would intensify her hurting.

There was something about coldness that made a person feel better when they were upset. It had a numbing sensation that reached down into a person's heart and lessened the pain.

_Perhaps that's why people scarf down ice cream whenever they suffer a break up. _

It made perfect sense.

Maddie gave up. "Whatever," she said, shrugging. As far as she was concerned, London would be London.

Once their chocolate-filled mugs were brought in and London had tipped the deliverer, they sat next to each other on London's luxurious couch and watched the snow fall outside her window, all the while sipping their drinks.

A long moment of peaceful silence befell them.

Usually London hated silence. Silence was eerie, and lonely. But Maddie's presence made it tolerable.

_Funny…they say real friendship is when silence between two people is comfortable. I never thought it was true until now. _

"You look sad," Maddie finally spoke, breaking the tranquility with an honest question. "Are you okay?"

London didn't know how to reply. She hated lying to Maddie, but she also hated the idea of letting Maddie in on her problems. She opted to lie: "Y…yeah."

Maddie raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Bullshit."

London heaved a sigh. Busted.

"Come on, London, tell me what's going on. You know you can talk to me."

London looked down into her half-drained mug, staring at the remaining ice cubes that were swirling around in the watery-chocolate mesh._ I don't want to talk about it._

"London, I just gave up a fun afternoon with the twins for you." Maddie's tone was both worried and critical. "The least you can do is be honest with me."

London's heartbeat began to speed up. She could feel her blood pulsating in her ears. Her fingers trembled. There was a voice inside her, screaming, "Tell her! Tell her!"

"London, please…" Maddie clearly wasn't letting up. She knew there was something wrong—something that went beyond being grounded.

London sucked in a deep, slow breath and swallowed. She had no choice but to tell. _At least I know Maddie can be trusted. _Gradually, and with care, she pulled up the sleeve of her left arm, revealing to her friend her horrendous bruise.

Maddie gasped. "Oh my God! What happened?"

"My stepmother," London answered, her voice shaking.

"You mean, the one your father married just last week? _She_ did this to you?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

London wished she knew. _Honestly, Maddie, I've been asking myself that same thing. _"I don't really know. She just…doesn't like me."

All of a sudden, Maddie was bursting with questions: "Does your father know about this? Does Moseby? Have you shown anyone the bruise?"

"No."

Maddie was confused. "No?"

"No, to everything. Daddy doesn't know, Moseby doesn't know, no one's seen the bruise…"

"But…why? Why didn't you tell anybody?"

"I told you, didn't I?"

"You know what I mean." Maddie stood up and took London by the hand. "Come on, we need to show Mr. Moseby."

London pulled her hand away, jerking Maddie back toward the couch. "No, we can't," she said matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean we can't?"

"We just…can't." London looked at Maddie pleadingly, her eyes shining with desperation for Maddie to understand. "Daddy really likes this one. She's different."

"Oh, she's different alright," Maddie retorted. "Different in the fact that she's an abusive bitch!"

London shook her head, disheartened. "Daddy loves her. He actually _loves _her."

"Until he finds someone prettier. Yeah London, I know his shtick."

"No!" London's voice was earnest; her head shook frantically in rejection. "This isn't the same as all those other times! He treats this one different. He calls her up constantly; he can't stand to not be around her; he takes her with him on business trips. I promise you, Maddie, she's the light of his life!"

Maddie thought for a second and considered the prospect. It seemed so implausible. Mr. Tipton, in love? With an abusive woman? Maddie's first instinct was to deny it—to say, "No London, your father loves _you_!" But when she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't come out. She didn't know if they were true. Mr. Tipton had never shown an interest in London's well-being.

Instead she asked: "Is she the reason you're grounded?" Deep down, she already knew the answer.

London nodded. "After she grabbed me, she went and told Daddy I called her a fat cow…even though I didn't."

"He believed her?"

"He made me apologize, and then grounded me and sent me here."

Maddie felt her insides boil with disgust and indignation. "She should pay for that," she told her friend simply. "You shouldn't let her get away with hurting you."

"What does it matter?" London said. "They've all hurt me in some way, shape, or form. I can live with it."

"You shouldn't have to!"

"This isn't about me, Maddie. It's about my dad. My dad's _happy_ with her. I can't take that away from him."

Maddie sighed heavily and sat back down next to London. The thoughts in her head were so muddled, she hadn't the faintest idea how to sort them out.

When she spoke, her words were steady: "If he _did_ know about what his wife did to you, do you think he'd stay married to her?"

London mulled that over. "No, probably not," she admitted. "But still, it would break his heart if he ever found out. She's everything to him. I hate to think how he'd cope…"—she couldn't complete her sentence; hot tears pricked her eyes and she had to swallow a lump in her throat. _Breathe, breathe. Get a hold of yourself._ "He may not be the world's best dad, but he's still my father…and I care about his happiness."

London took Maddie's hand and held it in her own. "Please Maddie," she begged, "promise you won't tell anyone."

Maddie looked at her. It was rare to see London like this—so passionate about someone else's feelings. It felt almost out of character. Yet at the same time, it made sense. Despite how many times London's father had let her down in the past, she still wanted to please him.

"Please," she'd said.

It was such a simple word, but coming from London it meant so much.

Maddie stared at her friend for a long moment, overcome by a sudden sense of awe in the realization that London was sacrificing her own security—as well as her own innocence—for the sake of her father's happiness. It may not have been a wise decision, and it may not have been healthy, but it was noble.

"I promise," Maddie murmured. It was probably the beauty and unexpectedness of London's selflessness that enabled her to say that; but as soon as she'd made her oath, she knew she'd keep it.

London smiled in gratitude and then looked back out the window. She took another sip of her drink. It tasted more like water than like chocolate by that point, but she hardly cared. Her eyes took in the snow, which had never ceased to fall. "You know something?" she said, an idea popping into her head. "I think maybe we won't have to miss out on the snow after all."

"What do you mean?" Maddie asked.

London answered her by walking over to the window and opening it. Both girls shivered as a surge of bitingly cold air wafted into the room. London cupped her hands and held them out towards the snow. Maddie came over and did the same by her side.

Together, they caught snowflakes.

"Thanks, London," Maddie said after a few minutes, "for telling me."

Oddly enough, instead of replying with "You're welcome" or "No problem," London's response was: "Thank _you _for listening."

Maddie managed to crack a smile. She watched as snowflakes fell, gracefully, into her bent hands and dissolved almost as fast as they arrived, on her skin, leaving tiny pools of water in their wake. Her hands started to become red from the cold, but she never brought them inside. There was something about the cold that was soothing.

"Hey, look at this!" London suddenly exclaimed, bringing one of her hands up to Maddie's eye level. Perched in the center of her palm, its crystal intricacies easily visible, was a perfect snowflake. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Before Maddie could answer, a gust of wind came and blew it away. It arose from London's palm, drifted back out the window, and then disappeared.

"That's weird," Maddie remarked. "They melt on me. But they don't seem to do that on you."

London looked at her. "I don't have as much warmth in me as you do."

* * *

**Well, I can officially say I've written a oneshot now. What did you guys think of it? I realize it's quite dark, but anyone who has read my work knows I love delving into dark subject matter. :) **

**Did anyone catch the metaphorical representation? ;)**


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